


You Came For Me

by Alitomy



Series: all alone [1]
Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Booker Gets Kidnapped!!, Booker Gets Tortured!!, Booker is one (1) heckin sad boi, Gen, who needs his fam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:48:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25667716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alitomy/pseuds/Alitomy
Summary: No ones coming to save Booker.
Series: all alone [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1862719
Comments: 10
Kudos: 211





	You Came For Me

**Author's Note:**

> soooo... all it took for me to start writing again was a depressed, alcoholic Frenchman.... yep, sounds about right xD

If he wasn’t so drunk all the time, he would have seen it coming. The familiar faces that he saw on his trips to the liquor store, in the alleyways around his apartment building, in the hallways of said building. It was a miracle that he hadn’t heard them bust down his door.

_‘No. No miracles. Just pissed off my head,’_ Booker thought as his mind returned to the present. The room was spinning and blurry as he came to with a groan, blinking slowly to rid the sensation from his eyes. He knew he was chained up; hands and feet both tied together with zip ties, then handcuffed to the steel chair he was sat in. The room was small, and he could barely see the entrance that was almost five meters away from him, and he noticed the tiled floors with multiple drains placed around the confined space. 

Booker groaned. He knew what they were planning. It was only a matter of how creative they were going to be with it. 

There’s only so much torture one can be put through in two hundred years before it gets boring, or the team bursts through the door to save his ass. 

That wasn’t going to happen this time though. 

~ 

He sat in the tiny room for an undisclosed amount of time, and he was definitely sober now.

And hungry. 

God, he was so hungry. 

Booker wondered how long it would be before someone decided to play with him; to slice his skin until they got bored, to gouge his eyes out and watch as they healed over and over, to simply put a bullet between his eyes until they ran out of bullets. 

_‘Each death is one closer to the end,’_ he thought in preparation for what was inevitably ahead of him. 

He didn’t have time to ruminate on the thought too much, and his neck creaked as he lifted his head to eye the man who had opened the door and stalked over to him. The man gripped Booker’s now rather long hair and ripped his head back, leaning down close to his ear from behind. 

“Where are your friends? I’m surprised they haven’t come looking yet. They’d make this whole experiment much more fun,” he snarled, and Booker didn’t react. He knew that whoever had captured him would want to know about the others. 

But he’d already let them become experiments themselves, and now he was paying the price. 

“They are not coming, _connard_.” Booker spat back, wincing slightly as the man tugged on his hair harshly. Normally he liked getting his hair tugged at. He thought it was fun. But this was the complete opposite of what he would consider fun. 

“Ah yes, you’re a man of habit. Frenchman living in France, of all places, drinking bottles of alcohol to drown the sorrow that you’ve held for so, so long. You were rather easy to track down for someone who’s managed to stay somewhat hidden for so long,” the man laughed, then spoke in Booker’s mother-tongue. “Maybe you should switch things up a bit.” 

“Are you going to start? Or are you going to make me sit through your pathetic blabbering forever?” Booker snapped, looking at the man rather disinterestedly, to his captor’s surprise. 

“Impatient too, I see. Tell me where the others are.”

“Never.”

The sound of a gun being fired rang through the building. 

~

It happens like that a few more times. 

Booker refuses, Booker dies. 

Even if he did know where his family was, he wouldn’t dare give them up to some punk who thought he deserved to know. Booker didn’t know the man’s intentions, but something told him that he doesn’t want to. He’d happily sit in this tiny room, bleeding out onto the floor before his wounds healed up. 

He was pretty sure more of his brain was on the surrounding surfaces than there ever was in his head. 

He was also pretty sure that, if this was a joke, he’d manage to get a laugh from Joe, a snicker from Andy, an amused smirk from Nicky, and a confused and mortified stare from Nile. 

She’ll learn to take these jokes on the chin. 

Not that he had faith in the other’s sense of humour. 

~

Booker was slouched over in his chair, blindfolded and shivering with cold, hunger, and thirst. He was possibly, genuinely going mad. His captor had sliced through his shirt and trousers so many times to get to his skin, they no longer held any warmth against his body. He wondered how many times he had died since he got here, and how long it would take for his captor to realise he just wasn’t worth it. 

Clearly, that time wasn’t coming anytime soon. 

He heard the door creak open and multiple pairs of footsteps walk in, the sounds of heavy metal being carefully dropped on the ground intrigues him, but not for long. 

His hair was gripped and his head was snatched backward, a piece of cloth placed over his face. Booker sighed loudly, feigning how bored he was of their tactics. Waterboarding wasn’t new to him, it just reminded him of his dreams of Quynh. 

The dreams that added to his decision to want to end it all. 

He held his breath as the water thundered down over his face. He had gotten good at that, not for lack of trying to drown himself. 

“This would all come to an end much quicker if you simply give us the information that we need,” a voice said, loud enough that it could be heard over the water filling Booker’s ears. 

“Even if I gave you their last location, they would have moved far, far away by now. They don’t like to stay in one place for too long you see, for precisely the reason of avoiding capture.” Booker gasped out as the water subsided. “I no longer know where they are.”

He wouldn’t know where they are for the next ninety-eight years. 

“We’re right here,” a new, but familiar voice is what he hears next. Then he hears the quiet _‘phut, phut’_ of silenced bullets being fired, then the much louder _‘thud’_ of bodies hitting the floor. 

Then, silence. 

Booker didn’t know what to think. His whole body hurts and he didn’t know if he was hearing things as part of him going insane, or if he was hallucinating. He snorted in laughter, cackling as he felt the cloth and blindfold being carefully removed from his face. Tears welled up in his eyes from the laughter as he kept his eyes downcast, refusing to believe his team was here. 

His family. 

His body shook with laughter, even as he felt the restraints against his hands and feet being removed. 

“Booker,” he heard her voice. “Booker come on, get up.” 

He lifted his head and saw the one person he was afraid he was going to lose forever. 

“Andy,” he whispered. “Y-You came for me.” 

The woman simply smiled and held her hand out, helping him to his feet before crushing him in a hug. “Copley got worried when he couldn’t find you in any surveillance tapes. He found out who took you and where you were, and now we’re going to get out of this shithole and take you home.” 

Booker barely suppressed a sob as he pulled away. “The others?” 

“Are outside keeping watch,” Andy said, pulling a handgun out from her holster, handing it to him. “Let’s go.” 

He took the gun from her and out of habit, checked the number of bullets in the clip. Satisfied, he looked at Andy with some fire in his tired eyes and nodded. 

“Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on tumblr: alit0my


End file.
